One Last Dance
by nevertheless1
Summary: My take of a more in depth version of Francis and Mary dancing in 3x03.


**A/N This is my first attempt at any kind of fan fiction, although it is certainly not original I really wanted to go further in depth interms of the characters emotions. Any critique would be greatly appreciated. As would suggestions of any other scenes to explore.**

The young couple walks out to the ball room, nervous of the scrutinizing gaze of the court. Such pressure has been placed on them both to perform in their role as king and queen of France. To up hold the faith, respect and approval of the royal family, to maintain their legacies, their reign. This dance is a mere metaphor of their grasp, their control, their devotion to France and her allies. They must present themselves as strong, bullet proof, unshakeable and invincible beyond belief despite knowing their romance, their epic love story will end abruptly. That his life will end abruptly. They have been there for each other through all their trials and tribulations providing strength and support and often a shoulder to cry on. It was a marriage that seem to be arranged in heaven.

Arm in arm they face the court, weary smiles plastered on their faces. A man claps sharply, announcing the couple's entrance.

"Musicians! Dancing music for the king and queen."

"Francis," She began hurriedly, in a low voice, "we don't have to, I'll make an excuse."

He looks at her a moment and smiles.

"No, I want to dance with you."

He perhaps knows this might be the last time he is strong enough to dance with her. Perhaps not. The music begins, a string instrument rings clear over the murmuring and whispering of the court. Was their slight hesitation noticeable?

"Are you sure you can do this?"

She pushes more concerned for his health now, rather their illusion of strength. She felt as though she could shatter into a million pieces right there and then.

"Uh," He grunts slightly, "We're here to put on a show"

She brings his hand to her lips and kisses it softly as though it were the most delicate thing in the world.

"And what better way than this?" He repeats this action, bending to kiss hers.

The couple takes their positions and begin circle each other, their gaze locked. He looks tired, but no amount of sleep would help him. He's been like this ever since the pain returned, it appears that even the best physicians could do nothing. Unspoken words travel between them: are you sure you're fine? I'll be ok. You shouldn't be doing this. I love you. A new, more complex stage of the dance begins.

"You're leading" He remarks.

"Just keep your eyes on me"

She tries her best to take the pressure off him, she prays that they will get through just this dance. The song comes to a slight crescendo and he lifts her with such care, and for anyone watching closely enough it is evident how much he cares for her from this one simple action. But he is weakening. He grunts softly as he sets her down.

"Stay with me, stay with me" She says softly not meeting his gaze, scared to see the pain and fatigue in his bright blue eyes. The dip comes next. He places his hand on the back of her neck at the base of her skull, supporting her as one would support a baby, as though she was the sick one, as though he cared more for her than for himself, as though he wants nothing else in this world except to love her and to care for her and her to be happy. He pulls her back up, holding her tightly, their eyes both closed for a moment imagining a world where they could be together for all eternity, where life would not be severed short by the unforgiving blade of illness and pain. They move on through the piece exchanging concerned looks, spinning, sadly smiling, reflecting on how their lives had come to this moment, knowing this could be their last dance, wanting nothing more than this not to be their fate. To rule France in piece to go on and have children, to live their lives together until the end. Until their rightful end.

They come together but he falls to his knee, pale and completely exhausted. She courtesies, lowering herself to look at him. He smiles, she holds his face in her hand, stroking his cheek lovingly with her thumb. He gets up and it's her turn to smile, relieved the dance is finally over. Slowly they walk away having made their appearance for the night. They will go to bed and wonder how they will deal with everything in the days to come, but for now they will be content with holding each other in their arms, basking in the knowledge that they will love each other for longer than they both may live.


End file.
